


Nice Boy Seeks Same For Hook-Up

by LittleMousling



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Craigslist, First Time, Hook-Up, M/M, Questioning, Teaching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-06
Updated: 2012-05-06
Packaged: 2017-11-04 22:30:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/398907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMousling/pseuds/LittleMousling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From <a href="http://1dkinkmeme.livejournal.com/5001.html?thread=3667081#t3667081">a kinkmeme prompt</a>: Louis wants to lose his virginity but doesn't want anyone at school to know he's gay. In order to finally get with a guy, he posts an ad on Craigslist.</p><p>Harry Styles answers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nice Boy Seeks Same For Hook-Up

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Хороший мальчик ищет такого же для секса](https://archiveofourown.org/works/940006) by [midinght (Bemyguest)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bemyguest/pseuds/midinght)



> Content notes: they're underage for the States but not for Britain. Contains a character questioning his sexuality. 
> 
> Not intended to be entirely canon complicit. 
> 
> This is a work of fiction and is in no way intended to imply that the paired characters are actually in a relationship.

Louis has had a girlfriend for a while now. She’s lovely; she’s one of his best friends, and he’s always happy to hang out with her. But he really, really doesn’t want to fuck her.

It took him a while to figure that out, because they were “taking it slow,” months of holding hands and cheek kisses before he so much as put his tongue in her mouth. The kissing was okay, but it didn’t feel like kisses in movies looked, or like kisses in books were written. It didn’t make Louis melt or tingle or get him instantly hard. Sometimes, if they were making out for a while and there was some grinding, he’d settle into a nice semi, but. Louis knew that wasn’t exactly enough.

Hannah knew that, too.

It’s been a few months now since they’ve done anything more physical than exchange a quick peck in public. They hold hands a lot, still, and cuddle up at house parties, because that’s just fun, and Louis gives her piggyback rides between classes, sometimes. Neither of them really want their mates to know that when they’re alone, they aren’t having sex; they’re mostly talking about boys.

“Andrew Garfield,” Hannah says. “Hands down.” She’s lying crosswise on the bed, head pillowed on Louis’ stomach. Her house is always easier to hang about in than his, maybe because Hannah’s mum seems to know quite well that Louis is no danger to her daughter’s—whatever. Hymen, possibly. Louis tries not to think about those sorts of things.

Louis hums, patting her hair. “Dunno, he’s a bit—y’know. Fit.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Hannah leans her cheek into his belly, looking up at him. “Have you seen him in the Spiderman gear? He’s got abs like, like Taylor bloody Lautner.”

“Exactly,” Louis says. “So what’d he want with me, right? Better off shooting for, like, someone in my league.”

“Says the man who’s obsessed with Nick Hoult,” Hannah points out. “He’s out of everyone’s league. They had to invent a whole league, just for him, and he wins the world championships every year.”

Louis laughs, because yeah, that sounds about right. “I wish—y’know, that there were guys our year like that. Not that they’d be into me, obviously, but still.”

Hannah punches him in the leg, and Louis curses. “Don’t get down on yourself,” she says. “After all, your girlfriend is hot as hell.”

“True,” Louis says. “My bird’s right fit.” He’s grinning as he says it, and she snorts at him, but she’s mollified, anyway.

“I’d help you get a boyfriend,” she says. “We could make it a project. We could go out to the pubs or something.”

That’s not a good plan. “Thanks,” he says. “That’s okay. I don’t think—it’d just get back to everyone at school, eventually. I don’t want to, you know.”

“Deal with it,” she says.

“Yeah.” They lie quietly for a long moment, and then Hannah pulls out her mobile. “Oi, am I not interesting enough for you?”

“Hang on, I’m checking something for you,” she says, distracted. “Yeah, all right, here. Oh, my. These are a bit—forward, aren’t they?”

She passes the phone up, and it’s open to Craigslist, the Sheffield listings. M4M. “Looking to suck 2nite,” Louis reads, and feels himself blushing. “Why are you showing me this?”

Hannah moves to lie next to him, scrolls down the mobile screen for him. “I thought—if you’re not going to go to a pub, and you aren’t going to try anyone at school, maybe this’d work. You can’t just go on not trying anything. At least I’ve done some stuff with a boy, even if he was afraid of my tits.”

“Oi,” Louis says, but he can’t really take offense. He was pretty afraid of them. They’re sort of intimidating, when they’re all—out there.

She taps his attention back to the ads. “C’mon. You might as well look.”

The ads are all like the first one he’d noticed, blatantly sexual. It’s all very—rough. Some of them even talk about money. “What if they’re all secretly hookers? I could get arrested.” He doesn’t know how this works. Maybe that’s how this works. “Or—Christ, this one wants to meet someone down the road from school, practically. These are all too close.”

“Some of them are in Leicester, Lou. Try not to be so paranoid.”

“I’ve got family in Leicester! That’s not better.” He shouldn’t still be entertaining this at all, but—but she’s right. She’s gotten most of her kit off with a boy, and he’s never so much as kissed one.

“We could try Manchester,” she says. “Or Leeds?”

“Manchester.” Leeds is still too close. Louis knows he’s being ridiculous, but if he’s going to do this—and he has a feeling he’s going to do this—he’s not going to do it anywhere nearby. “Manchester’d be all right. I guess.”

“Christ, the boys are even dirtier in Manchester. Stands to reason, I guess. ‘Slim fit white bottom lookin 4 a horny top,’ that might—wait, he says he’s 50. Best not.”

“Best not,” Louis agrees. He’s feeling a little tight in his trousers. “I dunno, they’re all so—sort of rude, don’t you think?”

“I think they’re straightforward,” she says. “It’s nice. Anyway, you don’t have to pick one of these. You could post your own, it’s free I think.” She clicks the “post” link at the top right. “Hmm. Do you want dating, or sex with no strings attached?”

“In Manchester?” Louis points out.

“Right. No-strings it is,” she says, and clicks the button. “Oooh, hey, this is cool. Okay, a man seeking a man. Now we—what kind of title do you want?”

“Not like those other ones,” Louis says, quickly. “Not—rude.”

“Inexperienced gay seeks age-appropriate assistance,” Hannah says. “Isn’t that nice?”

Louis laughs, plucks the mobile out of her hands. “Nice boy seeks same for hookup,” he says. “Or, um. Young nervous lad—”

“You’re rubbish at this,” Hannah says, and steals the phone back. “Here. Slim cute boy seeks sex lessons. We can tell them your age preferences in the main ad thing, right? So just—type in some stuff.”

Louis types in some stuff. He even types in his email address, though the website promises not to give it out to anyone. It’s still terrifying. “Post it, then,” Hannah says, and reaches over to hit the button. “There you go. First step on your way to Nick Hoult.”

“Thanks, babe,” Louis says, and he means it.

***

Louis gets twelve emails in twelve hours. Seven of them have photos; five have photos of cocks. Three say they’re outside his age range but “could show him a great time”; one wants him to try out for a porn movie he’s shooting. Six can’t string a sentence together.

But there’s one—just one—that Louis reads and doesn’t want to delete on the spot.

> **Subject: hey**
> 
> Think I could help you out, I’ve been told I’m a pretty good teacher. Um, this is me:
> 
> Sorry about the dumb grin, I am totally less dorky in person. (Actually that’s a lie, I’m loads dorkier, that’s a photo I have specifically selected for seduction purposes because it’s my minimum dork level.)
> 
> I also have a cock shot if you want, lemme know.
> 
> Cheers,  
>  Harry (not Potter)

  


Louis can’t really stop opening and rereading that one.

It isn’t even much, really, just a few lines, but it’s—it’s not scary, that’s for sure. It isn’t aggressive. Louis doesn’t really think he wants aggressive. Harry seems like maybe he’d let Louis be aggressive, if that was, like, on the menu. Not that Louis _wants_ that, necessarily, just. It seems kind of right.

It takes him two days to write back, and then only because Hannah almost holds him down and chooses a photo for him.

> **Subject: Re: hey**
> 
> Hi Harry (not Potter),
> 
> I like dorks! I am totally a dork. I mean, sort of obviously, what with the whole needing sex lessons thing. I’m at least a dork who’s good at footie? And this is me:
> 
> I don’t have the other kind of photo. I guess I could take one if you wanted? I don’t really need yours.

  


“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Hannah says. “Cut that last bit. Say you’d rather check his out in person.”

“I’m not going to say that.” Louis holds the laptop out of her reach. “That sounds—presumptuous.”

“Oh, who swallowed a dictionary? Here, just let me.”

> I don’t have the other kind of photo. I guess I could take one if you wanted? But I’m pretty sure you won’t be disappointed if

  


“Jesus, you can’t say that!”

“Well, he won’t,” Hannah says. She raises an eyebrow in the general direction of his groin. “I mean, really.”

Louis resists the urge to cover himself. “I can handle this, thanks.”

> I don’t have the other kind of photo. I could take one if you want, but I’d rather just meet up, if that sounds all right? I don’t actually live in Manchester proper but we could get coffee or something and maybe go back to yours?
> 
> Louis (not Potter either)

  


“Well,” Hannah shrugs. “At least it’s very you.”

***

Harry writes back right away.

> **Subject: Re: Re: hey**
> 
> Hey Lou,
> 
> I don’t actually live in Manchester either, but we could meet and then if it’s clicking we could rent a room or summat. I’m pretty much a broke student but good sex is worth the extra hours at the bakery, right? (See how I slipped that “good” right in there? I’m just saying, I have references.)
> 
> Harry

They arrange to meet up on Saturday, lunchtime. All week Louis keeps getting messages from new men responding to his ad; he deletes them all unread.

***

They’ve arranged to meet at a Pret near the train station, which seems a bit fancy for a dodgy internet hookup, but maybe this Harry gets off on sandwiches. Louis is early, because he didn’t trust the trains enough to cut it close, and he buys himself a Crayfish & Rocket to munch while he waits. He’s got his phone to amuse himself, anyway.

He can’t really stop flipping from his browser back to his email, looking at Harry’s photo again. He’s just so—cute. Not hot exactly, but cute and, like, non-threatening.

“Is it a good likeness, d’you think?” The voice behind him is amused, and Louis whips round in time to see Harry extending his hand. “You must be Louis.”

“Uh, yeah,” Louis says, and shakes with him. Harry’s got a good grip. “I was just, uh. Making sure I could spot you.”

Harry nods. He’s fighting a smile, and the corner of his mouth is pushing a massive dimple into his cheek. Louis wants to feel that under his fingertips. “Sure. Always be prepared, it’s a good motto. Mostly just makes me think of condoms, but, you know.”

Louis is blushing, he’s sure he must be blushing, because his face feels like it’s on fire. “Right,” Louis says. “Um. D’you want a sandwich or something?”

He likes Harry’s real smile, the one he’s flashing now. “You stay here, I’ll go get something.” He likes Harry’s arse, too, or—okay, more of a lack thereof, but it’s still—yeah. Harry’s long and lean and he’s wearing nothing special, jeans and a hoodie, but Louis can guess what’s hiding underneath.

Louis can totally do this. Louis is totally going to have sex with this guy. Shit, he’s gotta text Hannah.

_harry hot in person. nice too. help_

He can picture the fond laugh that’s meant to come with her reply: _Then stop texting me and get up on that, you fuckwit._

Right. Good plan.

Harry comes back with soup and a bottle of water, and he sits down across from Louis. “So,” he says, around his first spoonful. “You’re not from here, right?”

“Er,” Louis says. “Doncaster, actually.” Harry’s eyebrows go up.

“Bit of a ways to travel for—” Harry glances around. “Well. Bit of a ways, anyway.”

Louis shrugs. “I don’t want, um. You know, the guys at my school and all, it’s just not a good idea.”

Harry wags his head, and his spoon. “Yeah, all right. I get that. I kind of do the same, though mostly for me it’s just that there’s practically nobody where I live. It’s just easier to come up here for anything, really, even just to go to a gay bar.”

“You can’t be of age,” Louis points out, and Harry shrugs.

“They don’t seem to want to keep me out.” He grins, dimples showing, and Louis is fucking gone already. He supposes he’d have trouble telling Harry not to come in, too.

“D’you think they’d let me in, then?” Louis wouldn’t mind—that, trying that. He likes dancing, and he loves being around lots of people, and he thinks he’d like a gay bar, like being—not alone.

Harry’s grin turns dirty, looking Louis up and down. “I think if you took your shirt off they wouldn’t even ask. I sure wouldn’t.”

Louis has always preferred bluster to embarrassment, and today is no exception. “Oi,” he says, a bit too loud. “I think you’re flirting with me, Harry-not-Potter!” He bats his eyelashes furiously.

Harry snorts, and one of his ankles hooks round Louis’. “You think so, huh?” He uncaps his water and takes a long pull of it. “‘Spose so, yeah.”

“Appalling behaviour,” Louis says, in his best RP accent. “Simply appalling.”

Harry’s still laughing, and Louis thinks: _I want to make you laugh all day._

***

“When do you need to be back, then?” Harry asks, halfway to the hotel. “Can you stay over?”

“Have to,” Louis says. “Trains are a mess overnight, and I told my mum I’d be out till midday tomorrow.”

Harry grins, squeezes his hand. “Good. I’ll have loads of time to teach you stuff, then.”

Louis has been thinking about the stuff he wants Harry to teach him since pretty much that first email, and by now he’s overwhelmed by the options. “Like what?” It’s softer than he means it to be, and he wants to cover with a joke, but Harry’s hmming, getting ready to answer.

“Blowjobs,” he says. “Everybody should know how to give a good blowjob, it’s just good for the planet.” He glances over at Louis. “Plus, you’ve got the mouth for it.”

Louis definitely doesn’t make a little sound at that. Definitely not. It was a passing lorry. “Just that?” he asks. Just that would be—awesome, but. Louis is up for more. They’ve got hours and hours.

“Nah,” Harry says, and he lets go of Louis’ hand, rests it on Louis’ lower back, fingers splayed across the top of his arse. “I’ve got some other ideas, too.”

“Right.” Louis swallows. “That’s. Right.” He puts his arm around Harry’s back, because Harry’s a bit tall to be wrapping it around his shoulders. “And—the other, erm, way, do you—?”

Harry shrugs, turns to grin at Louis. “I’m flexible. Hey, I think that’s it across the street there.” He points at a gray facade, and Louis lets him lead them across at the light.

They get an okay deal on the room, and Louis gives Harry cash to cover his half, while Harry’s paying with a card. “King bed,” Harry requests, smoothly, and the woman behind the desk just nods and hands over an envelope with key cards, and a receipt for him to sign. Louis doesn’t know how he does that. Louis is pretty sure that even if he’d had sex with a million blokes in a million hotels, he still wouldn’t be able to just say that without blushing or stammering or pretending it’s for some other reason. Or at least making a joke; it’s taking everything Louis has got not to cause some kind of distraction right now, make a ridiculous face or start talking with his bellybutton, something.

“C’mon,” Harry says, and pulls Louis’ hand, hauls him towards the elevator. Louis almost trips over himself following, and when the elevator doors close, their floor’s button lit up, Harry turns them into the wall of it, presses Louis’ back into the mirror. “Should’ve just done this at Pret,” Harry says, and kisses him.

Louis has done loads of kissing, especially over the last couple of years. But none of it, not one peck, has been with a guy, much less a cute guy who wants to have sex with him in a hotel room in Manchester. It’s completely different. It’s—he can feel it everywhere, like Harry’s touching him everywhere, in the pit of his belly and in his bollocks and on his fucking ankles. He’s never felt anything like this; he’s like to come off his feet if Harry doesn’t stop.

The elevator beeps for their floor, and Harry pulls back. Louis just stares, and Harry has to drag him off before the doors close, get him into their room. “You okay there?” Harry asks, and Louis tries to shake his head clear again.

“I’m definitely gay,” Louis says. “Definitely.”

Harry laughs, wide enough that Louis can see all his teeth. “That’s good,” he says. “I’m bi, it’s nice to meet you.”

“I just—I have this girlfriend, right? I mean—it’s complicated, she helped me write that Craigslist post, but like, we used to fool around, and I could never figure out why people liked it so much, you know? When just having a wank was so much better than any of that.” Louis shakes his head. “I figured out I was gay, but I didn’t really—I didn’t get it, you know? That kissing a bloke would be so much better.”

Harry hauls him in and hugs him, warm and encompassing. Harry’s taller than Louis, and it’s a strange feeling, being held close by someone bigger than him. “It’s scary,” Harry says. “Sometimes. I get that.”

“Yeah,” Louis says. “But. Good scary. I didn’t know kissing could really feel like, like in the movies and stuff. But it can.”

“It’s not all guys,” Harry says. “I mean—I guess I don’t know how it was for you, but—I’ve kissed a lot of guys, and sometimes it fizzles. That one in the elevator was—it’s not like that every time.”

Louis laughs into the warm skin of Harry’s neck. “You saying you’re special?” Harry laughs, too, and pivots them back toward the bed.

“I’m saying we’ve got chemistry,” he corrects, but it’s cheeky. It’s a promise. “I’m saying this is gonna blow your mind.” He’s on his knees in front of Louis almost before Louis’ arse hits the coverlet. “No pulling on my ears,” he says, and then he’s unzipping and opening and _oh holy mother of—_

“Harry,” Louis moans, because he can’t say nothing, has to acknowledge this, this— “Harry, fuck, Harry.” Louis has no words for this, for Harry’s mouth, for the way Harry’s curled over him, on his knees. It’s intoxicating. It’s—it’s definitely not going to last. “Har—ngh—I—” Harry doesn’t stop.

Louis manages to shift one hand into his hair and pull a bit, trying to signal him, but Harry just moans and sucks harder. “God,” Louis manages, and then he’s pressing Harry’s head down, because he can’t not, because he’s, he’s—

“God,” Louis says again. He’s lying on the bed now, staring at the ceiling; he’s not sure when that happened.

“I prefer ‘Harry,’” Harry says, grinning, and then he’s climbing up over Louis, straddling him. “But I appreciate the compliment.”

“Can we—” Louis licks his lips. Harry’s mouth is red and wet. “Can I kiss you again, is that—” Harry’s mouth interrupts him. Louis isn’t complaining.

Harry tastes bitter and salty and familiar, a taste Louis has licked off his hand a few times, trying to get used to it, because he wanted to be ready for—well. For this. Louis’ come is in Harry’s mouth, and the thought alone is incredibly, brain-meltingly hot.

Louis is going to be hard again in ten minutes at this rate; it’s ridiculous. He flips them over, trying to regain some control, but that only makes it hotter, only makes him want to hold Harry down and make him desperate.

“This,” Harry pants, “this is not normal. Just so you know. I mean. George Carlin said sex is like pizza, even when it’s bad it’s good, but. This is really unusually good.” He’s grinding up into Louis, and his jeans are harsh on Louis’ soft cock, but Louis just does not give a damn, because yeah, this is really unusually good.

“Can I—” Louis reaches down between them, fumbles for Harry’s button, his zip. “Can I—”

Harry groans. “Yes,” he says, and louder, “Yes, yes. Yes.”

His cock is big and warm in Louis’ hand, and it’s awkward like this, trying to stroke him between their bellies, but Louis doesn’t care, because he needs this, needs to touch Harry and hear him breathing and see him come.

“God,” Harry chokes out. “Let me—” He arches off the bed just enough to push his t-shirt up around his armpits, baring his belly, and Louis gets it, whips his own off. “Close,” he says; Louis would have known anyway, from the way Harry’s hips are moving, pushing his cock into Louis’ fist. He’s lost all his rhythm, just mindlessly jerking up into it, and he’s moving his mouth like he’s lost all conscious control over it, over anything at all.

“Want to see,” Louis says. “Harry, I want to see you come, I want—” Harry’s gasp cuts him off, and the wet drip of Harry’s come seeping through his fingers, spurting out between their bare stomachs. Harry’s whole body is shaking, and Louis can’t stop stroking him, gentle long strokes that feel like he’s easing Harry through the orgasm.

They settle into each other, panting, and Harry kisses Louis’ neck, his shoulder. “We should shower,” he says. “I have some other ideas but one of them requires you to wash, er. Very thoroughly.”

Louis would be blushing if he had any blood available to his face. “Er. Right.”

“Or not, if you don’t want,” Harry says. “I mean. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“I’m comfortable with you,” Louis says, and that wasn’t exactly what he’d meant to say, but it’s the truth. He’s lying on top of this near stranger, covered in come, and he feels—safe. Like he can tell Harry stuff and Harry won’t think he’s weird or whatever. “We can do whatever you have in mind. I mean. Unless it involves farm animals or something.”

“Damn,” Harry deadpans. “I’ll have to cancel that order of chickens I put in for delivery tonight.”

Louis laughs, and rolls off of Harry. It feels odd to not be touching him, even though not-touching-Harry is the state he’s been in for 99.99999% of his life. “Shall we, then?” Louis says, and Harry stands up and finishes stripping off, shameless. Louis can feel his eyes widening, but he can’t help it, can’t stop staring.

“Your turn,” Harry says, grinning down at him, and Louis swallows, kicks his shoes off and stands to drop his trousers and pull down his briefs. He’d put on black ones today, special, because—because he’d hoped for this, that Harry would see him and think he looked good. He’d sort of thought he’d be spending more time in his pants, but apparently they’re skipping right over that into full nudity.

“Um,” Louis says, because he should probably say something. “You look really—good.”

Harry snorts, and then he’s walking into the bathroom, turning the water on in the shower. “You too,” he calls back, and Louis pads in after him. It’s a little awkward, now, and Louis isn’t sure where to stand, or whether he can touch, but Harry turns around and kisses him, presses him into the sink, and okay, maybe Louis is allowed to run his hands down Harry’s back and cup his arse. It’s much more round, like this, than it looked in his jeans, and Louis can’t help but dig his fingers in a little, haul Harry up against him.

“Good to go already,” Harry observes.

“It was really—hot,” Louis says. “Watching you, um.” He nuzzles into Harry’s neck, and Harry makes a soft sound and tilts his head, baring it. Louis doesn’t have to be told what that means; he kisses up and down the length of it, sucks a little.

“You can bite,” Harry says. “I like biting.”

Louis’ mouth waters. “We should—I can continue this in the shower.” The water’s been running a while now, and Louis doesn’t mind wasting it while they’re in there, but it seems a bit silly when they aren’t.

“Deal,” Harry says, and steps in, plasters himself against the tile wall and tilts his hips toward Louis like an invitation. Louis follows, settling under the warm spray and letting himself push Harry into the tiles the way he wants to, biting at the corner of his jaw, the skin under his ear. “Oh, fuck.” Harry’s voice is low, and his hands are tight on Louis’ waist. “Just like that, Lou.”

They’d sort of—skipped over the preliminaries, before, and Louis is glad to have them now, because he knows these things, more or less. He knows how to scrape his teeth down Harry’s earlobe until Harry whimpers, high in the back of his throat. He knows how to run his fingernails over Harry’s sides to make Harry’s hips jerk up into his. He knows how to massage Harry’s scalp through his damp curls.

It’s nice, not feeling completely out of his element. It’s particularly nice when Harry’s melting into the wall, totally caught up in Louis’ attentions. Louis likes Harry like this, limp and almost purring under Louis’ hands. He could get used to this.

They should probably actually wash up, though. Louis takes a reluctant step back, and Harry’s eyes flutter open. “Right,” Louis says. He can’t stop looking at Harry’s mouth. “We should—wash. Right?”

“Right,” Harry mumbles. He’s staring less at Louis’ mouth than at his—er. Louis fights the urge to cover himself with his hands. “Yeah.”

Louis turns away enough to grab one of the tiny shampoo bottles, and that seems to stir Harry back to the present. Harry shakes his head, pushes the curls off his forehead and steps into the spray, letting it pour over his face. “Okay,” Harry says, firmly, as he leans back so the water’s hitting his chest instead. “Washing. Let’s go.”

They manage to get through the actual showering part without too many distractions, and Louis feels pink and scrubbed by the time they step out. “Are you hungry?” Harry asks. “I’m kind of starving.”

Louis has never been so glad to have packed a lunch. “I have a curry in my bag,” he says. “If you want?” He’s been mostly hard since Harry came in his hand, and he’s not sure he wants to deal with going out and finding food in Manchester before they can, er, deal with that.

Harry grins, settles himself cross-legged—and still totally naked—on the bed. Louis tightens the towel around his waist and grabs his bag, rifles through it for the food and the forks. “You’re some kind of planner,” Harry says, and Louis snorts.

“Not usually. I was just, like. Thinking about this a lot. You know?”

Harry hmms, takes the fork Louis is handing him. “So then what else did you pack?” He raises an eyebrow at the bag.

Louis shrugs, opens the container and hands it over. “Snacks, a change of clothes, a book for the train. Um. Condoms and stuff.”

“‘And stuff,’” Harry mimics. “Like lube?”

“Er, yeah,” Louis says. He can’t figure out how to sit without flashing Harry. Maybe he could just kneel instead.

Harry’s laughing at him, which Louis takes to mean that his seating deliberations have been too obvious. “You could just drape the towel over you,” he points out. “But also, I’ve seen what you’ve got, and, y’know, I quite like it. So you really don’t have to.”

Yeah, that’s not an option. Not to just—sit there, like Harry, cock out and eating curry. That’s just— “Draping is good,” Louis says. “Thanks, though.” Harry shrugs and leans over to kiss Louis with spice on his tongue.

***

Louis was expecting something, after Harry’s shower suggestions, but he wasn’t expecting this.

“You’re—that—is that—you don’t have to—oh my god,” Louis manages. He presses his face into the pillow, trying to keep his hips from arching back into Harry too much. “Oh my god, Hazza.” Louis isn’t usually much for nicknames—his sisters pretty much ruined the whole concept for him—but this kind of deserves one. This deserves _something_. Harry’s tongue is just, is amazing. “Your tongue is amazing.”

Harry laughs, has to turn away and huff his giggles into the swell of Louis’ arse. “Thanks, mate,” he says, and then he’s turning back into it, licking and kissing and—fuck. Louis has seen this in porn, once or twice, but he hadn’t thought people actually did it, in real life. Now he’s pretty sure he wants this every fucking day of his life.

“‘m gonna—if you keep going, I’m—” He can’t stop himself rutting against the coverlet, driving towards the finish line.

But Harry’s taking his mouth off, and fuck, fuck, that’s a loss that stings. Louis has to fight to hold in a whimper. “Haz?”

“I want you to fuck me,” Harry says. “Is that all right?”

Louis’ hips jerk forward of their own accord. “Yes,” he squeaks, and then clears his throat. “I mean. Yes. That would be—yes. That’s all right.” He flips himself over, cock bobbing in the air.

Harry’s laughing again. Louis can’t bring himself to mind.

“There’s lube in your bag?” Harry says, and Louis nods, waves at it. Harry can get that. Louis is going to lie here and try not to come yet.

“Y’know,” Louis mumbles. “I didn’t think—I thought maybe we’d do some blowjobs and that would sort of be it.”

Harry tosses the lube and some condoms over and climbs up over Louis, straddling him. “I take it from your tone that it’s a good change of plans,” he says, and Louis nearly gives himself whiplash nodding agreement.

“Really good,” Louis says. “Excellent. Unexpectedly excellent. Yes.”

Harry’s grinning at him, but it’s fond. “Give me your hand, then,” he says, and smears lube over Louis’ fingers. “Slow and steady, eh?” He kneewalks up until he’s straddling Louis’ ribs, in easy reach, and Louis reaches around and traces the wrinkled skin of his hole. It’s easy to press in, with the lube on his fingertips; Harry’s body isn’t stopping him at all.

“Can I—” Louis presses a second fingertip to Harry’s rim, because it feels like that should be okay, and Harry nods. The second goes in easy, too, tight but still a smooth slide, and oh, god—that’s going to be Louis’ cock, sliding tight and slick into Harry.

“‘S nice, right?” Harry’s curled over Louis, hands on the bed around his head, and Louis looks up to see the soft smile on his face. He looks contented. “Feeling—I always like it, prepping someone. It’s sexier than people think.”

“Y-yeah,” Louis agrees, his voice shaking. “It’s very. Yeah.” He wants, suddenly, to be on the other end of this—not right now, because right now nothing else could be as good as this, but. Later. “After—I mean, when we’ve rested or whatever, can you—can I—”

Harry’s eyes refocus on Louis’. “You want me to fuck you?” It’s no louder than a murmur, but it makes Louis’ whole body feel tight and desperate. Louis just nods. “Want me to slick my cock up and push into your arse?”

Louis nods again, swallowing. He’s stopped moving his fingers in Harry, but Harry’s riding them, fucking himself down onto Louis’ hand. “Yeah,” Louis says. “I do, yeah.”

“Fuck,” Harry says, and then he’s reaching for a condom, pulling off Louis’ fingers and clambering back to roll it onto Louis. His hands are shaking. “Fuck, you need to fuck me right now,” he says, and then he’s tugging at Louis’ shoulder and Louis is rolling them over, and Harry’s pulling his legs back. “Just—steady strokes, nothing jerky,” Harry says, and Louis presses in.

“Oh,” Louis manages. “ _Oh._ ” He hasn’t got any other words for this, for the way Harry’s arse feels around him, for the heat of it. Harry’s whole body is wrapped around him, legs and arms, like he’s fucking Harry with the whole of him, not just with his cock.

Keeping his strokes steady feels fucking impossible when Louis’ hips just want to buck wildly, but he wants this again—he wants Harry to want him to do this again—so he focuses on it, keeps himself steady. “Yeah,” Harry breathes, “yeah, Lou. That’s—just like that.”

Harry’s sliding his hand down between them, stroking himself, and Louis thinks that probably he’s supposed to be doing that, but there’s no way he can free a hand right now. There’s no way he’d have the coordination, anyway, because everything about this, every fucking thing about this, is overwhelmingly good.

“Oh god, I am really, really gay.” Louis did not entirely mean to say that out loud, but, really. It’s accurate. It’s an accurate depiction of his feelings in this moment.

“Good to—know,” Harry chokes out. He’s stroking himself fast now, hitting Louis’ stomach on every upstroke, and his legs are trembling where they’re wrapped around Louis’ torso. Louis hopes that means Harry’s about to come, because Louis definitely, definitely is.

It turns out there is no way he could miss Harry coming, because Harry’s arse tightens around him so much Louis’ eyes roll back in his head. Some kind of embarrassing, strangled noise escapes Louis’ throat, but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care, because this is the best thing anyone has ever felt in the entire history of the world.

His hips stutter to a stop, finally, and Louis manages to remember enough of his sex-ed curriculum to hold the condom steady as he pulls out, to tug it off and toss it to the floor before he collapses on Harry.

“Holy fuck,” he mumbles into Harry’s neck. “That was incredible.”

“Yeah.” Harry’s still breathing heavy, still shivering a little like he’s not quite done with his orgasm. “It kind of was.”

Louis is sweating and sticky and limp, and it’s maybe the best he’s ever felt. “I just. Wow.”

Harry laughs, wrapping his arms back around Louis. “‘Really, really gay’?”

“Yes,” Louis confirms. “Definitely, really gay. I mean. I’ve watched some seriously gay porn, and I’ve talked about celebrity arses a lot, but—I really had no fucking clue.”

Harry laughs into Louis’ hair, kisses him there. “Glad I could help. Nothing like actually trying it.”

“Clearly,” Louis says. “Jesus.”

“Let’s just lay here a while,” Harry suggests. “You good with cuddling?”

“I am aces at cuddling.” Louis settles himself more firmly into Harry’s arms as if to demonstrate. “I could represent Britain in the Olympics of cuddling.”

Harry runs his hands up and down Louis’ back, soothing. “Good,” he says. “This for a while, then.”

***

“Listen,” Harry says. They’ve only got a few minutes before Louis’ train shows up. “I don’t usually—but I’d like to see you again, if you think you could get out to Manchester. Just—I had a really great time, and I thought we sort of, you know. Clicked.”

Louis’ stomach feels fluttery. “That—yeah,” he says. “I thought so too, yeah. I dunno when I can get back out again, but I’ll figure something out.”

“And—I’m pretty good at phone sex,” Harry says, grinning. “Y’know, if you wanted to learn something else new.”

Louis’ arse still feels—funny, from trying new things. He’s definitely up for more of Harry’s instruction. “Uh, here,” he says, and opens a new contact page on his phone, hands it to Harry.

Harry types in his number and his full name, presses the call button. “Now I’ve got yours,” he says, hanging up the call and saving the number.

“I’m—Tomlinson, is mine.” Louis shifts, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “Louis Tomlinson.”

Harry holds out his hand, grinning. “It’s been fun, Louis Tomlinson,” he says, and Louis shakes it, pulls Harry into another hug.

“Really fun,” he says. “Thank you.”

“Thank me by coming back to Manchester,” Harry says. He tucks his mouth against Louis’ ear. “Thank me by letting me get my hands all over your gorgeous arse again.”

Louis shivers. “Gonna get me hard in public,” he protests, and Harry just laughs, pulls halfway out of the hug but leaves his arm around Louis’ shoulders.

“Probably,” Harry agrees. There’s a clatter, and the train listings shift. “Yours is here.”

“Okay,” Louis says. He doesn’t want to leave. “Okay.”

Harry leans in and kisses him, hands on Louis’ face. “See you soonish, then,” he says. “Right?”

“Yeah.” Louis leans in and kisses him back, and then once more. “Yeah, definitely.”

***

_im in the longest line youve ever fucking seen_

Harry’s text buzzes Louis’ pocket. He might not have noticed in all the noise and the crowd, but the last couple of weeks, Louis has felt psychically linked to his phone, waiting on the next text, the next email, the next call.

 _huh funny me too_ , Louis texts back. _where’re you?_

_xfactor auditions. didnt i tell you abot that? first year im allowed_

Louis’ head comes up, scanning the crowd. There’s thousands of them; there’s no way he could spot Harry, but—

 _uh me too actually_ , he texts back.

There’s silence for a while, and Louis wonders if Harry’s scanning the crowd, too.

 _i hope we both get in_ , Harry sends. _that would be epic_

Louis hopes so, too.


End file.
